


I fumble for your figure in the darkness

by quantumoddity



Category: Nightrunner Series - Lynn Flewelling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Dressing Room Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Seregil and Alec are musicians, Smut, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: I thought it was time I introduced my Morden AU! Rather than posing as lords, the boys are semi famous, often scandalous musicians.And they're just as needy for each other, particularly after a show.
Relationships: Alec í Amasa/Seregil í Korit
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	I fumble for your figure in the darkness

Alec knew this was what Seregil was made for. 

He saw it in the almost tangible buzz of excitement right from the morning of their gig, the way he’d be unable to sit still more than usual and would be humming their set list right from when he brushed his teeth. It would be in how he carefully selected his outfit and did his make up, so glad to have the freedom to do so, the bigger, more high profile performances always came with their own stylists that he’d inevitably clash with. It was in how he prepared his guitar back stage, how he’d carefully tune and polish the sleek wood even if it was already pristine, how he’d restlessly run his fingertips over the strings to make fractured but pretty chords that sounded as excited as he did.

And it was in the way his shoulders would settle into a confident, easy slackness, the crooked smile that would alight on his face as they stepped out on stage, the eager way he approached the mic to the cheers and whistles of the crowd. And the way he’d turn to give Alec a wink that was meant only for him, even as he faced a crowd of hundreds, one that reminded Alec of their early days practising in Seregil’s apartment together, why he’d first fallen in love with music. 

And with Seregil himself. 

He’d known since those first days that this was what Seregil lived for. The whole being a semi famous singer had always been a front for his real work, the spying and housebreaking, the gathering of sensitive information. Behind the carefully constructed tabloid scandals and drunken antics at disgustingly expensive parties and sold out shows, Seregil was a nightrunner through and through and Alec was the same. 

But it was undeniable at these smaller, more intimate gigs they still did in the independent bars and tiny theatres around the city for the crowds that had been there since Seregil had started performing in Rhíminee. Alec knew his lover was made to be a showman, he was made to entertain and share his music with people just like him, outcasts and exiles and runaways. 

From the first notes of whichever song they’d chosen to open with, probably one of the more popular ones to warm up the crowd, as he’d bring his bass to life with some invigorating, thrumming rhythm, humming the harmony into his mic, and Seregil would start to sing while his hands went wild on his guitar strings, Alec would know that his talí was exactly where he was meant to be. 

And he’d also know exactly what would happen when they finished. 

Alec was already braced for it when Seregil slammed him against the wall of the dressing room they shared, he was already grinning and already thrusting his hips forward. 

“We have a bed at home…” he gasped, still breathless from their last encore, there was a note at the end that he had to practically howl, “A perfectly good bed, just a short cab ride away…”

“Are we even rock stars if we don’t ruin some dressing rooms?” Seregil purred, his skin burning with the effort and the need as he slipped his hands under Alec’s shirt. They were calloused from his years of playing, Alec could even feel where one of the strings had nicked him. 

“You’re a rock star, talí,” Alec corrected, taking Seregil by the hips and jerking him closer, “I’m your backup singer.”

Seregil rolled his eyes, tossing the loose strands of hair back out of his eyes. Both of them kept their long hair tied back for shows, it was just easier, but after a full set and then several encores, both Seregil’s bun and Alec’s braid were coming undone. Most was plastered to their sweaty foreheads and whatever wasn’t already a mess would soon get that way as Seregil freed one hand from Alec’s waistband and combed his fingers through those long blonde flyaways. 

“You’re not my backup anything,” he huffed, “You’ve got all the writing skills, your voice is gorgeous and...your clever hands…”

The clever hands he spoke of turned his indignance into a soft, shuddery gasp as they slid down his ripped jeans to free his erection. Quite a feat, given how tight they were. Alec grinned and kissed him, happy to know Seregil’s lipstick would soon be smudged all over his own mouth. The hand in his hair was now tugging more than it was stroking, raising goosebumps on his flushed skin. Both of them knew what they wanted and were making it very clear. 

By now their long suffering manager knew to leave them alone for at least an hour after a show like this. Thero had learned a lot of hard lessons pretending to wrangle Seregil and it hadn’t gotten any easier since Alec had come along a year ago. 

Seregil pulled away, leaving his talí whining at the loss, shimmying his jeans right down to his boots and hopping up onto the dressing table they’d been given. They always shared a dressing room, why hide what was already obvious to anyone who met them? In the harsh glow of the vanity lights, Seregil looked like the ethereal, otherworldly faie he sang like and still was deep down even after years of exile. 

“Come,” he beckoned, grinning crookedly. 

Alec did, more than willingly, yanking down his own pants and ducking between Seregil’s knees so he could have all of him pressed so temptingly against him. He was so warm down there, cock already slick and hard and wanting. And, as was now very obvious, open and ready for Alec. 

His distinctive blue eyes widened in some mix of shock, awe and disbelief, “Have you...were you like this all night?” 

Seregil smirked, beyond delighted that he could still make his lover blush, “Are you surprised? And, a more important question, are you going to stand there and let it go to waste?”

Alec rolled his eyes though he had to admit, it was a unique kind of delicious to be able to sink right into Seregil with no preamble or fuss, knowing that his body had been waiting for him all through the show, imagining Seregil rocking on his own fingers in the cramped bathroom stall and imagining this moment. From the way he groaned, thighs tightening around Alec’s hips and fingers digging into his hair, Seregil’s thoughts were running along the same tracks. 

And then there was no thoughts in Alec’s mind but the rhythmic pull and tug of their bodies, the friction and sweat mingling on their bodies, the tight, sweet heat of Seregil around him, how he held him fast. They were well aware they had to be quiet, even with the rumours that surrounded them, so after a few thrusts, Seregil took one of Alec’s hands, the one that wasn’t braced against the mirror, and put it over his own mouth. The sight alone was hot enough that Alec could have finished then and there, if he hadn’t taken a few deep, ragged breaths to ground himself. 

Alec knew there were so many cliches about music and making love, in how they were similar. But he couldn’t deny it was the exact same fervour, the need, the vulnerability he found when he gave himself completely to whatever song he was playing, surrendering to Seregil was the same. And neither he could have imagined himself doing before he came to the city. 

It wasn’t long before they were close, they didn’t have the time to go slow and savour it, that would come later in their own bed as dawn broke over Rhíminee. This was fierce and fast and messy, an explosion of adrenaline and emotion, it was survival. So Alec felt no shame when he staggered against Seregil, filling him to the brim with his heat as he growled low in his throat, toppling his lover in the same moment. Heavy, wet spurts hit Alec’s shirt and he mentally reminded himself to change before they left the dressing room. 

Alec’s palm was wet with the condensation of Seregil’s broken cry of release. He quickly replaced it with his lips, kissing his lover with a soft, relieved sigh that said everything he didn’t have the time to put into words. Seregil smiled, spent, against his mouth and let his hands fall from Alec’s hair to his shoulders, holding him fast. 

“I love you,” he managed to gasp out, once his lungs could work again, “I love you, talí…”

“I love you too,” Alec murmured, unwilling to part from him, at least for now, his smile soft and so gentle. 

There was much to prove to Alec that this was what Seregil, his talímenios, was made for. But maybe, even after so long doubting himself, it was what he was made for too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment, I know it's a small fandom so every comment I get means so much to me! I'm also on tumblr, @mollymauk-teafleak if you'd like to make suggestions or ask about AUs! I have many!


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